


Five Times Natasha Killed The Soulmate Goose (And One Time She Didn't)

by ladyphlogiston



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, reality ensues, soulmate goose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyphlogiston/pseuds/ladyphlogiston
Summary: Most people say the bruises, bites marks, and general mayhem left by the Soulmate Goose are worth it for finally finding your soulmate.  Natasha, on the other hand.......
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89





	Five Times Natasha Killed The Soulmate Goose (And One Time She Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> I discovered that there is a trope known as the Soulmate Goose after kiwigirl wrote a Steve/Darcy story using it. I'm still sort of appalled that it exists. But it did make me wonder what would happen if someone decided that they were Not Having It.
> 
> Thanks to my brother for a long series of increasingly unlikely suggestions, and to my husband for making this far better than it was.

"Did you just kill the soulmate goose?" Jane asked.

Natasha glared at her. They were at the target range, they'd been practicing with throwing knives, Jane was beginning to be nearly adequate, and then a giant honking farm bird had burst through the door. Of course she'd killed it.

Steve, down the range, walked over to the avian corpse, avoiding the small pool of blood that had leaked around the knife in its breast, and nudged it gently with the toe of his boot. "Huh."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Pick it up and get it off the floor. We'll tell JARVIS about the blood."

Jane made no move to pick up the goose. Instead, she stared at Natasha. "You killed the soulmate goose!" she squeaked, arms waving in agitation.

"I don't have time for a soulmate," Natasha replied.

"But what happens now? Do you think there's more than one soulmate goose? Will people still have soulmates?"

"Does it matter? Either there is more than one, or people will manage to find each other without getting bruised and bitten in the process." Natasha threw her next knife; it thudded deeply into the target.

"Yes, but you killed the soulmate goose," Jane repeated. "Nobody kills the soulmate goose."

"The last thing we need is a noisy overgrown duck wandering around," Natasha said firmly.

"I can't believe you killed the soulmate goose," Jane muttered.

\---

Gradual smile, lean towards him, small sip of champagne. Hold the eye contact. "And?" she purred, "what are you planning to do about it?"

Her mark's chest expanded under the dress shirt that wasn't tailored nearly as well as he probably thought it was. "I'm going to beat him at his own game! My next build will feature pneumatic sidewall tires with tessellated ribbing...."

Natasha watched his mouth, smiling. None of this was important, but he was falling into the rhythm of boasting. Perfect.

"Sounds.....expensive," she commented, raising demure eyes to meet his. 45 more seconds of this braggadocio and he'd be primed to make mistakes. "Will it be worth it?"

He opened his mouth, expanding like an overripe peach in the summer sun.

HONK!

Natasha bit down on a curse. Her mark was looking delighted.

"Miss Nadiya!" he cried. "I knew it! I knew there was something between us!" He pulled Natasha into his arms and attempted to kiss her.

Natasha pushed him away, but not in time to prevent the goose from hissing loudly and biting them both on the legs. Her mark yelped and stepped back, looking bewildered and fending off blows from the crazed bird's powerful wings.

Natasha's mind was racing. Her cover wasn't blown, but the conversation was clearly a loss. The goose, having driven her mark a safe distance away, was coming towards her, hissing meaningfully.

Natasha took a few steps back, trying to think of a way to rescue the situation. She glanced around, and the goose took advantage of her lapse in focus and launched itself at her, flapping wildly, honking and biting.

Natasha struck out, breaking the wing bones and grabbing the goose by the neck. Hauling the goose behind her, she cut and ran, tapping her earpiece as she raced out the exit. "Steve, I'm blown. This _cyka_ goose interrupted me. Have someone snatch the target and we'll try more direct methods."

\---

Natasha trudged back her apartment in Avengers Tower, trying not to show how exhausted she was. The slime-things in Central Park had taken surprisingly long to subdue, and then the slime had turned out to be slightly acidic, so they'd all had to get lathered up in a buffered basic paste, and then the team had had to debrief. All she wanted was a shower.

Also vodka. Lots of vodka.

She was opening the door to her apartment when she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. The goose was waddling determinedly towards her, a nasty glint in its dark, beady eyes.

"Oh, hell no," Natasha muttered. She considered just shooting it, but gunfire in the Tower always attracted attention. A knife would be quieter.

She left the goose in the hallway, blood still pouring out of the hole where she'd severed its head from its neck. "Sorry, JARVIS," she muttered in the general direction of the nearest camera. Damn, she needed that drink.

"Miss Romanoff," a quiet British voice responded from the overhead speaker as she entered her room, "could we perhaps not make a habit of this?"

\---

Natasha fired her last bullet into a Doombot, then grabbed a length of pipe to start smashing more. She ducked under a thrown brick and launched herself towards the next pair, swinging forward and back to smash the two in one swift movement.

That was all the Doombots on this floor of the parking garage. She leaned out into the street, trying to get a feel for the distribution of the battle.

She could hear Hulk's roar to the south, in the direction of Central Park. She knew Clint was west of her, sniping Doombots and helping coordinate Stark and Wilson. She didn't see Steve or Barnes, but they were out there somewhere.

A cluster of Doombots appeared a block away, smashing cars and causing more destruction. Natasha reloaded her guns and flipped herself over the low wall and onto the street, running towards them.

She dispatched several of the Doombots as she ran, then swung her pipe to knock another Doombot into the one behind it. They both exploded. Natasha used the shock wave to push herself sideways, dodging lightning bolts as she did so.

Natasha landed in a crouch, swung her pipe into the nearest Doombot, and...

HONK!

Natasha and the remaining Doombot turned to face the goose which had just wandered into the combat zone. The goose peered around, settled its feathers, and honked again.

"What is this being?" asked the Doombot.

Natasha sighed. "It's a soulmate goose. It wants to badger me into having a soulmate."

HONK! Hissss…

"This is illogical," replied the Doombot.

Natasha swung her pipe and knocked the Doombot onto the goose, where it exploded, a gout of flame scattering metal shards and feathers.

"I _know_ ," she said.

\---

"Do you have any beer?" Clint asked.

Natasha didn't jump. Most people would have, but most people either didn't have her situational awareness or had long since blocked the air ducts so Clint couldn't sneak into their apartments. Natasha wondered, not for the first time, why she hadn't done the same.

"I don't drink beer," she reminded him.

Clint wandered over to the refrigerator and peered in anyway, apparently hoping that beer had spontaneously appeared. He sighed and grabbed a Fanta instead.

"Bit early for Thanksgiving prep, isn't it?" he asked.

Natasha looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.

"There's a turkey in there," he explained.

"A goose, actually," she replied, turning back to her book.

Clint was silent. When she looked up, he was rubbing the spot between his eyebrows as if he had a headache. "I can't believe you killed another one. I can't believe you're planning to _eat_ it."

Natasha shrugged. "JARVIS gets sarcastic when I ask him to dispose of them."

\---

"A word, Cap?" Tony asked.

Steve raised his eyebrows but followed Tony into the workshop. Tony greeted the bots, then picked up a widget from a table and began fiddling with it.

Steve folded his arms and waited.

"You know the soulmate goose keeps visiting Romanoff, right?" Tony asked, still fiddling.

Steve nodded. "I'd heard. She keeps killing it."

Tony snorted. "She says she doesn't have time for a soulmate."

Steve clenched his fist, then relaxed. "She may have a point," he muttered.

Tony looked up at that. "What? Did you say she has a point?"

Steve shrugged. "A soulmate is a weak point. There's no denying that. We can't afford the vulnerability."

Tony put down the thing he'd been fiddling with. He straightened up and looked Steve in the eye. "I don't do serious very often," he said, "so I'm going to say this once and it'll have to last you. A soulmate can be a vulnerability, yes. But a soulmate is also your greatest source of strength. Take it from someone who's older than you, in experience if not in years. Don't underestimate that."

Steve blinked, then nodded. "I...I'll consider that."

Tony shook himself and turned back to his table. "Good, because otherwise you'd be dumber than I think you are."

Steve smiled wryly. "Thanks." He turned to go, then stopped. "But why did you want to tell _me_ this?"

"Oh right." Tony took a swig from a thermos bottle, then flicked his hand at a nearby screen. A mess of lines came up. "I did a vector regression on the goose's appearances. Looks like you're her soulmate. So you might want to get on with that considering." A corner of his mouth quirked up. "Not sure how many lives that goose has left."

\---

Natasha was in the communal kitchen when the lights went out and strong arms wrapped around her. She immediately responded with fierce blows, her training disabling the attacker with brisk efficiency.

Surprised, Natasha paused. In theory, her attacker was on the floor, half-dead and thoroughly subdued. In reality, he had fended off the worst of her blows, ignored the rest, and calmly picked her up and carried her down the stairs.

 _Steve._ Her senses caught up with her mind and identified her assailant. She must have unconsciously recognized him, though, because she had pulled her punches without realizing it. Her training had come up against her instinctive knowledge that Steve was not an enemy.

They passed through a doorway, and the light came on. Steve put her down, and she realized she was in his apartment. She folded her arms and glared. "What the _hell_ , Rogers?"

Steve smirked at her. "Just proving a point."

She glared harder. "What point?"

"You trust me."

"You're lucky I trust you, Rogers," she growled.

"I know," he said seriously.

That was...not what she expected. To cover her sudden awkwardness, Natasha turned away and took a few steps further into the apartment. Her gaze flitted around the room. A neatly folded pile of fluffy microfiber throw blankets occupied one end of a big blue couch. Several art prints were pinned to the wall, along with two of Steve's own drawings: one of some kids playing in Central Park, and one of Natasha herself, laughing in the kitchen, with her hair braided back instead of carefully styled. It was so rare that she let herself laugh that freely that it took her a moment to place the occasion: it had been about a month ago, and she'd been watching Clint attempt to make pancakes and he'd somehow exploded the flour all over himself.

She looked back at Steve, who was still watching her carefully. "So. I trust you," she said.

Steve nodded. "And I trust you."

"So?" she demanded.

Steve shrugged. "So maybe that's a good thing."

"Why?"

"Because...." Steve stopped, then sighed and started again. "Because I think I love you. And because Tony says that goose has been trying to push you towards me."

"I don't have time for a soulmate," Natasha snapped. Again. She ruthlessly squelched the tiny part of her that thought that maybe Steve did love her, that it might be nice to be loved. No, Romanoff, love was for children.

Steve smiled. "Maybe not a soulmate. But a partner. A home."

"A home," she repeated flatly.

Steve stepped forward, reaching out to hold her shoulders. She kept them stiff beneath his hands. "Natasha, you're my corner when I need to hide," he said softly. "And I'm pretty sure I'm yours."

A home. A place to hide. Natasha let her shoulders relax slightly, almost imperceptibly. Steve smiled slightly, but continued to watch her, waiting for her to make her own decision.

Part of Natasha's mind was telling her to run, leave, pull away and never look back. That was the only safe course of action. The other part...

"HONK" came from the hallway.

"Oh, all right!" she yelled towards the door, and stepped into Steve's embrace.


End file.
